Life is unfair when you're perfect
by ThriceW
Summary: After slapping me around with a dead fish, my muse decided to inspire me yet again. Here it is. A spoof on the most despised character in the fan fiction world; the Mary Sue. Rated for language and innuendo.


**This is dedicated to the disgruntled fans of the Iliad who tire ofMary Sues. **

She was beautiful! Of course she was beautiful, she was the daughter of Achilles and Hera, the Queen Goddess. They had a secret tryst and Achilla was the result. She had her mother's perfect courtly manners that she wore like a mask to disguise her father's roaring temper. Yep, she was perfect. The gods and goddesses were all jealous and even Aphrodite could be heard, sitting at her mirror, pinching the slack folds of her aging skin, wistfully saying, "Oh! I wish I was as beautiful as Achilla."

Achilla was practising with her bow. It was boring because all she was doing was shooting perfect bullseyes! Blessed by Apollo, some might say! Lowering her bow, she sighed wistfully, "Oh! How I wish that I could fall in love!" Because maintaining her perfect appearance and practising her god-like gifts of war was taxing and time consuming. It took a lot out of a girl, you know.

Her servant, a trusting and loyal man of ancient but untold years scuttled forward and took her hands in his. "Now, now my dear! You are a perfect princess in every way! Borne of perfect parents! And you will find the man of your dreams some day." He said gently, his rheumy eyes gleaming with a maternal love. Secretly, if old Bob was but 70 years younger he would have surely tapped that ass by now.

"Oh Bob! I am not perfect! I am ugly!" She bemoaned, remembering the dark birthmark on her bottom that was shaped like the island of Crete. She was so ashamed of her hideous deformity that she rued the day when she would be forced to take a husband.

He knew of her terrible secret because he had been watching her in the baths for quite some time. It was in the shape of the island of Crete, he remembered. "Now, now dear. Do not vex yourself so." He patted her hands fondly.

Pulling away from him, she set the bow on the table and from the vast selection of weapons, picked up two throwing axes. Throwing them, they whizzed through the air and hit the bullseye, splitting the arrows in two. "If it were not for the death of my parents, they would probably have given me a suitor by now! I am angry, Bob! Why have I not had any suitors?" Her beautiful green-blue eyes gleamed with unshod tears. "I am so lonely! This perfect woman needs a man to depend on! To fend for her and to put her in her place when she is not being a good lady. Doesn't anyone want me?" She whined, bunching up the delicate folds of her lovely silk dress.

Just then, the sounds of a war horn bleated, shattering the silent peaceful afternoon of Achilla's castle into a million-trillion itty-bitty pieces. She gasped and grabbed up her father's sword, donning her father's armour from the rack where it stood in the garden. She raced through the castle, her armour clanking, her sword rattling and banging against her leg, causing her to trip. When she reached the courtyard where the slaves had the foresight to saddle her black destrier, Buttercup, she mounted up and flew from the gates in a flurry.

Like a fiery, heathen, goddess of war, she watched from the parapets of her castle on top of her big black horse, as a thousand ships came into view on the blue horizon where the sky met the sea. Buttercup was stomping around, crushing men and knocking some of the more unfortunate few off of the wall completely, but Achilla didn't care. She knew her fate was bound to those far-away boats, just as her father's had been before he had died! With her heart in her mouth, she turned her horse and clattered down the wall.

"It is the Trojans! They have come back!" Cried the peasants of the city, running around tearing their hair out of their heads in terror.

Raising one gauntlet hand, Achilla cried out, her voice echoing off of the walls of her city like silver bells, "Do not fear, citizens of Achillada! I shall save you!"

The terrified mob of citizens–now mostly bald from pulling out their hair from all the fear, sighed in relief and went back to baking their bread, making children, getting drunk and just generally having a good lark as the Princess of Achillada prepared to make war on the evil Trojans.


End file.
